


Bloodlines

by TK_DuVeraun



Series: Splintered Legacies [4]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: CLOSE FAMILY TIES, Canon Typical Violence, F/M, Healthy Relationships, Sith doing Sith things, Soft Love, but badly, heck it's lighter than that, idiots need to learn to communicate, loving your siblings, making mistakes but then talking it out, or not?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2019-12-18 08:24:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18246071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TK_DuVeraun/pseuds/TK_DuVeraun
Summary: Aquila Meshurok and Lord Malish just need to talk. Please, by the stars, the ancestors, just talk to each other. Yes, research is consuming, yes, being a bodyguard is complicated, but you’re only making things worse. Communicate, you idiots. At least before you fall in love.Reading the series for context is advised, but not necessary. Just a fun little romance!





	1. Arrangements

**Author's Note:**

> Oh boy! So this AU of the Legacies series is now its own series! Further, it's a co-writing campaign with some friends of mine, so look out for further parts with multiple authors!
> 
> Recommended reading: [Frozen Expressions](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13907520) (Legacies) -> [Morning Comes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13803210) (Legacies) -> [Resilience](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14184819) -> [Fallout](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14339508) -> [The Same Moonlight](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15568782) -> Bloodlines (this)
> 
> Alternatively, you can just read this and be a little confused. I'm more than happy to give context in comments or private messages if, for some reason, you really just want to read only this.
> 
> Feel free to [check me out on tumblr](https://tk-duveraun.tumblr.com/) for quicker updates, memes and cute pics.

The Sith’s office sits in the second ring of influence outside of the Citadel. Aquila frowns under her helmet and checks the address again, but no, it’s correct. What kind of Sith has the the clout to hire the _alor_ ’s own kid, but not enough to get an office closer to the Dark Council? Whomever Lord Malish is, he has enough credits and enough of a reputation to get approved for the job. “Probably nepotism.”

She clears her mind before knocking on the door. Her mother isn’t the type to take on Sith that are twitchy, but mistakes happen. The door opens with no one behind it, but that’s standard Sith procedure. Behind the clean lines of the modern, metal desk sits a particularly short Sith. Not that Aquila is the type to judge, but she feels the illusion pulling at her eyes and every other blink he looks taller. She nods her head a fraction. “Sith.”

“Lord Malish.”

“Sith.”

“Lord-”

“You’re paying a lot of credits to have an argument you’re not going to win.” Aquila crosses her arms over her chest, leaving the bodycam with a clear view.

“I’ll pay someone more professional a lot of credits.” The Sith works another illusion, this one darkening the room. He stares at her through his mask.

Aquila activates the headlamp on her T-visor.

Malish snaps his fingers and both illusions fade. “Fine, Meshurok. Have it your way. As your contract says, my rivals have rotting tukatas in their labs making them send assassins after me.”

“They should hire a better cleaning service.” Aquila smirks and removes her helmet. She holds it under her arm. Her Force sense is muted by the cortosis weave in her armor, but she gets a hint of his surprise at her appearance. “We’re going to start with Tier 2 surveillance in the office and Tier 3 in the field. Our analyst thinks it’s unnecessary, but we have to start with a tight ship until I can make my own observations.”

“I was expecting more than a single agent.”

“Danger that warrants an op group is above your paygrade, Sith.” Aquila pulls her braid out of her cuirass and shakes it out. “Your illusions wouldn’t be conscious spells if you were that good.”

“Can I have a different bodyguard?”

“Not unless you get injured.”

“That can be arranged.”

Aquila taps the lens of her bodycam and then gestures between them. “If we’re done posturing, I need to have a look around to see what I’m working with here.” She doesn’t wait for an answer before dropping her helmet on his desk and turning her back on him. Malish has shelves stuffed with datacrons, datapads, Force relics and crumbling bits of inscribed stone.

“Don’t touch anything!”

“If I tried, all of this kark would be on the floor. This isn’t my first kath show. Untwist your pants and let me do my job.” She pulls a sensor out of her pack. “Before you start barking, you already agreed to this. It’s not a recording device, blah blah.” It fits over the door and activates with a signal from her gauntlet.

“Is that even necessary? Any Sith off Korriban can get around that.”

Aquila looks over her shoulder. “Can you?” When he doesn’t answer, she places two more sensors. They calibrate with soft beeps and she claps her hands, as if knocking dust off them. “Right. Contract said you have a lab connected..?” The lab entrance is concealed and it rankles against her pride that she can’t Sense where it’s hiding.

Malish answers her by opening the secret door. The shelves behind him open back into the lab. Soft, blue lights hang from the ceiling, each one haloed with tiny Force crystals. Despite being in a Sith’s working lab, most of the crystals are blue or green. The tiny sparks of power resonate with Aquila through the cortosis weave in her armor.

“Oh.”

“Don’t hit them with that rock you have for a skull,” Malish says. He brushes past her and stops at one of his worktables. Half of a vase sits in front of him. It appears like normal pottery until Malish taps a few of the crystals above his head, activating them. Then, the clay shard glows with a map of Force enchantments.

“This is amazing,” Aquila says, the antagonism having fallen out the bottom of her stomach. “Just beautiful.”

Malish huffs. “Yes, now do your job and ensure that no one makes it in to ruin it.”

“I need to touch some of the things in here,” Aquila whispers.

“Absolutely not! Mandalorian armor will-”

She dumps both gauntlets on the floor next to Malish’s feet. Hands shaking, Aquila runs her fingers over the worktables and along the shelves. Without her gauntlets, she can feel the Force in the objects and get a sense of what the Sith is working on. The relics are ancient and the Force whispers half-sensible stories in the back of her mind. Translation spells or something of the sort. A sigh leaves her lungs and curls up in the ambient Force. “I have to order new equipment to ensure it doesn’t disturb your work.”

Malish reaches under his mask and scratches his face. “So you know what you’re doing, after all.”

“I’m very good at my job, Sith.” Aquila clears her throat and tries to speak at a normal volume. “Don’t do any work in here without me present until I can get it set up.”

Without looking away from the vase, Malish points to a black and red scar on the next table. “I wasn’t planning to. Some womprat tail almost got me last week. I’ve needed to check on this for days.”

“Why didn’t you appropriate some Reclamation Service-”

“Don’t talk to me about those hacks,” Malish says. All of the crystals above him flash with his emotion. All attuned to him. “It would take twenty of them to do the job of a single Mandalorian. And they wouldn’t hand over guards without sending one of their lumbering nerf ‘professional historians’ in here rubbing their sticky hands all over my research.”

She laughs. “Papa hates them, too. Refuses to have anything to do with them. He can rant for hours.”

“Don’t get me started. They’re nearly as detestable as the Jedi and certainly worse than these assassins.” He pushes his mask up to scratch his forehead and leaves it there, face revealed. Malish is mostly human, pale skin with olive undertones and thick, black hair… except he doesn’t have eyebrows.

Aquila bites her bottom lip. His serious expression with his narrow jaw and delicate features looks comical with the clean brow-ridges. She ducks down for her gauntlets before the giggle can escape. Her features are back in her professional mask before she straightens. “I’ll send the clan leader my order; the sensors should be here in a few days. Send me your schedule for missions off-world and _where_ we’re going so I can pack accordingly.”

“Yes, yes, I read the contract. You’ll have it tonight. Go stand watch or whatever it is you do. I need to focus on this.” He pulls the mask off fully and tosses it over his shoulder. Leaned over his vase, he pays her no further notice. The blue light reflects off his eyes and makes them look ice-blue.

_Well this is going to be a fun job._

\---

Aquila bites her tongue as she punches the secondary authorization code into Malish’s bioscanner. Once inside, she enters the tertiary code and checks the Force switch on the frame. With her foot holding the door open, she drags in the supply crate. She cracks into it with the access code and a kick of metal on metal. The sensors are packed tight with expanding electrogel. Tiny sparks from her gauntlet free them one at a time so she can check for damage. They power-on with a beep and whistle. She’s still examining the third one when the false wall behind her slides open.

“The kriff are you doing? Why are you here? It’s not even daybreak!” Malish rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand. He’s wearing black and red plaid pyjamas and fluffy orobird slippers. He yawns. “And I swear on the ghost of Tulak Hord if you say anything about the karking contract I will Mind Crush the words out of your head.”

Aquila holds up one of the sensors. “You’re the one that paid double to buy these from a dealer in Kaas City instead of our usual source. And you’re the one that selected immediate installation.”

“I never-”

“So you do have a mysterious benefactor. I knew you couldn’t afford me.” She laughs and goes back to checking the devices. “These are made of Rholaran clay, which is-”

“Extremely rare and expensive because it conducts ambient Force energy identically to human-breathable air. I use it in my work. My very important and valuable work. Yes, I have benefactors, at least one of whom is paying you ensure my work continues.” He stands at his full height, which isn’t impressive, and glares down at her, which is even less impressive when the tie holding his hair back snaps and his view is blocked by a curtain of black hair.

Aquila deserves a medal for not laughing. She makes a mental note to tell her mother later. “Do you normally greet people in your PJs?”

Color stains his cheeks and he fumbles with his hair. “I could feel it was you.”

“No wonder an assassin got all of the way into your lab.”

“My Force Sense is- Forget it. I’m going to get dressed and start working.”

Once she’s done testing the sensors, Aquila sets her helmet on his desk and installs the first one over the hidden door to the lab. The quality is poor, compared to her usual supplier, and she has to calibrate it with her gauntlet while keeping half her mind on sensing danger. Her willpower is tested a second time with Malish walks under her extended arm without even bending down. Sure, it’s angled up, but him being so resigned to his height that he didn’t even duck is just too funny. “I’ll try to stay out of your way.”

Malish grunts and answers in some language Aquila doesn’t recognize. The word swirl in her head, the sounds playing against audio clips of her _vod_ speaking this or that language, but it doesn’t seem to fit. She files it away as a question for later and moves on to the next sensor.

It takes the rest of the morning to set and calibrate the sensors in his lab. Aquila sits in the crate on top of the electro gel packets to eat her lunch. It’s some kind of savory handpie that tastes like nothing so much as home and she can hear Papa’s voice in her head, scolding the cooks over this or that. She brushes the crumbs into the crate and pokes her head into Malish’s lab. “Do you want to eat or something before I kit out your living quarters?”

He doesn’t respond, barely moves at all, bent over some crumbling tablet. Aquila bites her tongue and watches the crystals over his head. When the energy shifts through them, she repeats the question. Malish pulls his hands and Force away from the tablet and then startles with a jump and _why is everything about the Sith funny_.

“What? Food?”

“Past midday.” She checks her chrono. “Quite a bit past. And you haven’t had anything to drink either.”

He rubs his face with both hands, smearing what little color he has around. “What happened to G8? It’s supposed to remind me to eat.”

“It wasn’t here yesterday.”

Malish blinks at her and then looks around his lab. His gaze stops on the scarred table. “Kriff. I forgot it got destroyed.”

“Come on.” Aquila takes his arm with the lightest touch she can, since he doesn’t seem any closer to leaving his work. “Get something to eat and order yourself a new droid. If it gets here when I’m not around-”

“Don’t activate it, I know. I’m not a complete idiot.” He stops and looks her in the eye, asking for the rebuttal.

“Monitoring your physical health is part of the job, but I’m sure the last thing you want is me pestering you every few hours.” Aquila stops at the threshold of his personal quarters to set the first sensor.

“I was between things,” Malish calls from the next room. “Your timing was lucky.”

“There’s a reason I cost so much and it’s not my good looks.”

A loud ‘hah’ and snort come back to her.

“How many openings do I have to give you before you call me an expensive whore? Come on, up your banter game, Sith.” The responding silence sends a chill down her spine. Aquila looks over her shoulder and finds Malish glaring with enough raw emotion and power her limbs are stiff and numb.

“You’re not to joke about that, Meshurok.”

Aquila nods as much as she can without exerting her own Force. “I apologize. Won’t happen again.”

He ducks back into the other room and she nearly falls over as her muscles release. She swallows hard. There aren’t many Sith that can project that strongly with a look. He might need a mysterious benefactor now, but there’s no doubt that he’ll be a Sith to be reckoned with once he comes to his own.

But it’s not fear that makes her pulse race.

He’ll call on her whenever he needs protection in the future, she’s just that good, and she’ll be able to see his power first hand. Be able to fight at her full strength and… and earn so many points. She’s not Trandoshan, but if there’s a deity up there with the ancestors, it’s Scorekeeper and Malish will bring her the best hunts. She takes a slow breath to calm her blood and then lifts the next sensor. Questions simmer in her mind like shaclaws in a pit: each one fighting to get out first.

They have time to fight it out; Malish won’t answer anything until he trusts her.

Aquila can’t wait.

  



	2. Experiments

Two weeks into the contract, Aquila brings Malish’s work coverage down to Tier 1. Three weeks in, she sits with her boots up on his fancy Sith desk doing a crossword puzzle while he works. She yawns just as her chronotimer goes off. With a stretch and a second yawn, she hops out of his chair and replaces her helmet. She crosses into his lab, but the idiot’s not there. On alert, she pushes her Force awareness through her armor and Senses the office. Then she slaps the front of her T-visor with a clank. “Sith… Why are you on the ceiling?”

He looks up from his work, or down at her, or- He looks at her, eyes still glowing from whatever technique he was using. “Why are _you_ on the ceiling?”

She gestures to the tables, firmly on the floor she’s standing on.

Malish blinks, the power winking out of his eyes. He pokes the Force crystal hanging closest to his face. “I don’t know why I’m on the ceiling.”

“How long have-”

“If I didn’t know I was on the ceiling, I certainly didn’t notice when I got here.” He tugs on his ponytail, but it continues to lay down - up? - his back as if gravity doesn’t particularly notice he’s upside-down. He holds the day’s relic, a staff, out to her. “Take this. I don’t want it breaking while we figure this out.”

“I’m not touching the spooky Sith weapon. That’s probably what got you stuck there in the first place.” Aquila steps around a crate of more relics and digs through his tool drawers for a neutralizing cloth or something she can use it take it from him.

“It’s not a Sith weapon; it’s a _Sith_ weapon.”

“Do you even listen to yourself talk?” She asks.

“I mean the race, not the… I meant the race. And you’re in the wrong drawer. Left and down one.”

The drawer opens with a screech, but the cloth is on top. She wraps it around both hands and holds them up for the staff. “We just call ‘em ‘ _getal’pelgam._ ’ Less confusion.”

“And what does that mean?” He hands it to her.

“Red skin.” Aquila barely gets the words out because as soon as he releases the staff, Malish falls from the ceiling. Even with the Force, her muscles ache from how quickly she has to set down the stupid relic in order to catch him. Since he can’t see her smirk, she tilts her head at him. “We’re a simple people.”

“I could tell.”

Rougher than strictly necessary, she sets his feet on the floor. “I’ve been called worse.”

“I’m sure you deserved it.” He reaches for the staff, but Aquila bats his hand away.

“I’m already over time. Seal it up and play more tomorrow. And don’t even think about-”

“Opening the crate until you get here? I have a mother. She’s quite lovely. You can ease up on…” He trails off and she feels why a moment later. Just a tickle of warning from the Force and then a loud _snickt_ and quiet _hiss._

Before her armor’s sensor can ever identify the gas, Aquila shoves the staff back into his hands, launching him back onto the ceiling. She grabs a device from her belt and slaps it over his face before he can protest or ask questions. When it makes contact, it sprouts legs like an irradiated sleen and clamps over his nose and mouth in an airtight seal. The sensor finishes reading and the results flash across her T-visor’s display. “Crouch up there; it’s wreller gas. It’s barely lighter than the air here, so it’ll take a while to get to you.”

Muffled exclamations answer her, but she’s too busy digging through her gear to read his face. “Relax and breathe normally. That can filter wreller gas for five hours and we can leave the suite long before that.” Biting her tongue, Aquila pulls out a canister of air cleanser. With a bit of rubber pipe, she hooks it into her flamethrower. It spits out a burst of fire before the fuel is replaced with the cleanser. It hangs in the air like fat snowflakes and she sprays it in the lab and office until her HUD reports the right concentration.

Force Sense and experience both tell her Malish is about to do something dumb, so she barks into the lab. “Don’t take it off yet. I need to make sure wreller gas was the only thing in there.”

She sets the bulky advanced sensor on his desk and hooks it into the power core. It whirls to life with a belch of smoke that Malish must see through the door because he gives another loud protest. Ignoring him, she lets the machine run while she sprays the booby-trapped crate with carbonite sealant. When she’s satisfied with the coverage, she checks the sensor. She replaces the first cleanser with a second canister and sprays the rooms again. It takes the gases several minutes to settle. “Looks like we’re bumping you up to Tier 3, Sith. This is no amateur with a grudge.”

Back in the lab, Malish is sitting on the ceiling, eyes glowing as he works on the staff.

She claps her hands until he notices her. “Do you have a death wish?”

He points to her, gestures around the lab and then shrugs.

“Yes, I did have it covered, but you could have _some_ sense of self-preservation.”

He starts to cross his arms over his chest, but almost drops the staff. He settles for rolling his eyes at her.

“Fine! Get back to it while I air out the place and make sure it didn’t get into your living quarters. You’re lucky I didn’t leave on time. And don’t even think about saying ‘There are no coincidences in the Force.’”

\---

A kick to the helmet wakes Aquila, but given how loudly and profusely Malish is swearing, it hurt him more than her. He turns on the lights in his sitting room and holds his bruised toes through his fluffy slippers. “Why are you sleeping on my floor?”

“If you read the contract-”

“Tier 3, I know, but there’s a couch right there. Kriff, you don’t have a blanket or anything.” Malish leans against the wall and gingerly lowers his foot to the floor. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Aquila sits up and knocks on her chestplate. “Climate controlled. I’m not cold.” She yawns. “What are you doing up?”

“I had an idea I wanted to try.”

“In your dressing gown?”

“It wasn’t going to take very long.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re not allowed to work during off hours anyway.” Aquila removes her helmet and wipes the sleep from her eyes with two careful fingers. She replaces it and yawns again.

“Not allowed? It’s all part of the same suite. I’m not any safer-”

“You’re _much_ safer in your bedroom. I can’t install proper security in the lab without it interfering with your research. And there are two doors between the office and your bedroom and only one to get into the lab.”

“If they can break into the office-”

“Breaking in still takes time. And in that time, I can be ready to properly handle the threat.”

Malish huffs and pulls his robe tighter over his pajamas. “Fine, no working in the middle of the night. But I’m getting you a blanket.”

“Sith, I don’t need a blanket. I don’t want a blanket. I’m in full armor, the blanket would get stained and catch on the plates and be an active hindrance. One of my clan sibs will be here with my field sleeping gear in a few days.”

“A few days!” Malish throws his hands in the air and paces, even though he flinches on his hurt foot. “Ridiculous! Unacceptable. How are you supposed to guard me properly without a decent night’s sleep.”

Aquila rubs her palm against her helmet and it almost has the same effect as scrubbing her cheek. “I can sleep just as well in my armor.”

His eyes flash with purple energy and she can feel his Force Sense brush against her skin. “You’re exhausted.”

“Because you kicked me in the head at three in the kriffing morning. Go back to sleep and I’ll be plenty rested.”

“I’m not sleeping until you at least have a pillow.” He talks over her protests. “I told you my mother is a lovely woman and she raised me better than to let people just sleep on the floor.”

“My helmet will-”

“So take it off.”

“The Tier 3 protocols exist to keep you safe. If I hadn’t had it on when the gas bomb went off in the lab-”

“Then you would have joined me crouching on the ceiling, had me use the Force to get it and the rest of your gear and then handled it from there. I’m not completely helpless.”

Aquila sighs. “This isn’t up for debate.”

“You’re right; it’s not. You’re using a pillow or I’m not sleeping.” He holds up one finger to stop her. “And I can use the Force to sustain myself for several days without sleep, which means either you’ll sleep and be derelict in your duty or you’ll take the bucket off and use a pillow.”

“Why are you like this?”

“Because I have manners.”

“Fine.” Aquila removes her helmet and sets it next to her on the floor. “But once my kit gets here, you have to accept that that’s just how we do business.” She meets his eyes and adds just a touch of Force, not enough for him to consciously notice, just enough so he knows she’s serious.

“We’ll see when your kit gets here.”

“Your lovely mother is going to be very sad if you get killed because you won’t let me do my job.”

He answers by throwing the pillow at her face with the Force.


	3. Knowing

Black stone with thick veins of obsidian surrounds them on all sides. The cave walls are covered with engravings; some of them glow with the Force. The runes are unfamiliar to Aquila: neither modern, nor ancient Sith. The dormant runes are broken, the stone cracked and worn. A small break in the ceiling lets in orange moonlight.  Aquila launches a turret drone at the opening and watches its path. Satisfied, she nods. “We shouldn’t have to worry about an ambush from behind.”

“I don’t Sense any other presences nearby.” Malish’s voice sounds strange coming from his mask after two months in his suite without it.

“You didn’t Sense anything wrong with the crate, either, and then we were both nearly killed by wreller gas.” She pokes him in the back. 

He looks over his shoulder at her. “Speaking of my crate, you said your clan would send it back after they investigated the gas bomb. What’s the ETA on that?”

“It’ll be done when it’s done. Our experts are working on it; your benefactor has deep pockets.” She activates the sonar map in her helmet’s HUD scans it for anything that could be an enemy or a trap. “And this karking relic of yours may well be dangerous in its own right. If you had let me research it before coming here-”

“Do you not understand the meaning of classified? Privileged information? None of it?”

“The people who want you dead clearly know what you’re after. Why are you hiding the same information from the people trying to keep you alive?” Aquila wants to throw her arms out in emphasis, but she’s carrying her gear and his, so she settles for a glare at the back of his hood.

“It’s not clear that they do, Meshurok.”

“Aquila.”

“Sith.”

“Fair.” She grunts. “But if they don’t know, why do they want you dead?”

Malish stops and holds his arm out to keep her from walking past him. “Having my rich benefactor might be enough on its on, yes? My death may just be a stepping stone to more valuable targets.”

“It would still help me to know. And will you just let me walk in front? We’re more likely to be attacked from the direction I haven’t guarded.” The tomb is in view before them on a dais of pure obsidian. The best place for an attack: where Malish is going to be most distracted.

“Why don’t you ask your father what happens when the Reclamation Service has their muscle walk in front?” Malish stomps his boot onto the stone and power rushes in front of him. Snow-white lines of power glow in an intricate sigil through dust that now looks suspiciously like carbon ash. “Would you like to take a step?”

“Very dramatic. You were waiting for that, weren’t you?”

“The holocron  _ did _ detail the defenses rather well.”

“Is this as far as it goes? Or does it extend past what’s visible?”

“This is it.” Malish kneels on the stone and presses both hands flat. Two spots of purple from his eyes war with the white-glow as he channels his Force.

Aquila sets their gear down and pulls a scanner out of pack. Which she then throws across the cavern to land just outside the ritual circle. It activates with a chirp and scans more of the cave system. She dismisses the sonar map to watch the scanner results fill in. It’s done long before Malish is. The cavern is a dead end without any nooks or crannies to hide anything malicious. She snorts. Malicious.

The Force lines on the floor wink out and Malish stands. He stretches both arms over his head. “Okay, bring my kit, but don’t step on the dais. I’m wearing the guise of its master, so it knows me.”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, his Force shifts and he feels wrong. It makes Aquila’s skin crawl, even through her armor. The Sith corruption is thick enough to taste and she wants to gag. She drops his equipment at the foot of the dais and stalks across the cavern to set up another turret. It’s unnecessary, but she needs to get away from the wrongness. The feel of a true Sith is bad enough, but she feels alone and… cold without the familiar touch of his Life Force. Two months of knowing him and one of never leaving his proximity has had a greater effect than she knew until that moment. The weight of the revelation is crushing.

And distracting.

An inhuman gurgle and the crunch of bone comes from the tomb in front of Malish. Aquila’s too slow, she’s wandered too far to reach him in time to pull him away. With sharp breaths fogging her HUD, she yanks him backward with the Force. She slides past him on her knees and activates her shield generator just as hot, sticky, black ichor erupts from the open tomb. It sizzles against the barrier and wails like an injured akk pup. She bites her tongue and uses the console in her right gauntlet to channel energy from her armor into the shield. The ichor gushes like a fountain and spits out Dark Force energy that slaps and scrapes against her mental barriers.

Malish, feeling mercifully like himself, claps his bare hands on either side of her helmet. “I’ve got you, Meshurok.” His own mental protections spread over her like a blanket, soothing away the reaching horror. He’s panting and breathless. “I can stop this. Just hold strong.”

Unable to speak, Aquila nods.

Malish throws a handful of small kybar crystals into the air above the tomb. Each glows a different color. The beams cross into the shape of a net that slams over the tomb like an overaggressive sealing droid. The remaining ichor sloughs off Aquila’s shield and seeps into the floor.

Swallowing down the bile in her throat, Aquila says, “That explains the black stone.”

Malish puts his hands on her shoulders and rests his forehead on the top of her helmet. He’s panting and resting his weight on her. “You really are worth every credit.”

“I hope your research is.”

\---

Aquila’s ship is a hunk of junk in Lasek’s spaceport, but it feels like home. She dumps their gear just inside the airlock and ushers Malish up and onto her couch that isn’t as nice as his. His hands are shaking and his robes hang off him like he’s an effigy made to scare off webwings. She leaves him there, hands clenching on nothing, and sets the autopilot back to Dromund Kaas. Her ship is junk, but it’s junk her Papa put together with his own hands and best men. Malish’s face turns to her like a flower seeking the sun when she returns.

“Hey,” she says. When he doesn’t respond, she sits next to him. His mask comes off with a few gentle tugs. Her gauntlets barely depress his flesh when she holds his cheeks. She checks first one eye, then the other for foreign influence or Force exhaustion. “Hey, you’re alright now.”

His hand comes up and holds hers. He stares at her T-visor like he can see her eyes and maybe with the Force he can. His voice is whisper-quiet, but not weak. “What are you doing?”

“Figuring out if I have to tranq you to get you to sleep properly.”

He smiles and squeezes her fingers. “You know me. I like to sleep in. With my fluffy slippers.”

“Unless you get inspired in the middle of the night,” Aquila says, more to drown out her own mind than anything else. She can only hear her own voice shouting ‘This is a mistake’ so many times before she wants to scream. Except she doesn’t want to scream. She wants to rip her helmet off and kiss the life back into him and then hold him while he sleeps.

His chuckle is barely audible, but it drowns out the mental screaming when he presses his cheek into her hand. “I’ll stay in my bunk. I promise. Just let me check…” He releases her hand with a flinch like it hurts to do so. “It was so chaotic. I want to be sure you’re not… affected either.”

Her lip trembles under her helmet because she knows what’s next. He’s too weak to Sense her properly through her helmet. She’ll have to take it off and rely on only willpower to keep from pulling him face-first into the mad crush of her emotion. With a deep breath, she breaks the seal before he can ask. If it’s her decision, maybe it won’t mean so much to stare into his eyes? She doesn’t believe it, either, but what else can she do? “I was impressed. I barely felt your technique.”

“It’s my father’s speciality.” With her helmet between them, he touches her temples and it’s almost too much. How stupid, how foolish for them to let this be the first touch of bare skin between them. He stares into her eyes, ice blue meeting forest green like the sky touching Sarkhai’s jungle. His breath shudders in his chest even as his Force breezes against her mind like an ocean wind at the height of summer. “I trained in it before I found my calling.”

She holds his wrist, terrified of what she’ll do with it. A grin pulls her face away from the inevitability of the space between them. “Your father’s specialty is mind healing?”

“A scalpel’s just another knife.” He laughs without breath and closes his eyes. He pulls her in until their foreheads touch. “You’re alright, too. Just need some rest. Promise me or I won’t sleep.”

It’s almost too much to resist. Her heart claws its way up her chest and tries to take control, but responsibility and honor lock it back in a gilded cage. “I have to report to the  _ alor _ .”

He opens his mouth to speak, but his breath catches in hesitation. He says the words anyway and Aquila knows they’re  _ the _ words because they’re as cursed as they are quiet. “And then you’ll follow me?”

She squeezes his wrist and pulls back. “And then I’ll sleep.” The rejection sears his posture and fire licks at the gold bars around her heart, but takes both of his hands and finds his eyes again. “I’ll find my bed this time.”

This time. She could mean as opposed to the times she sat on guard while he rested, but she doesn’t.

And he knows it.


	4. Warmth

Freezing wind beats against Aquila’s armor, leaving clumps of snow in every nook and crevasse. According to the HUD in her T-visor, it’s much warmer than Hoth. She wants to spit. What does it matter if it’s warmer than Hoth if the air still burns the lungs? They tromp through knee-deep snow over ice on Ilum’s surface. Even Malish has a proper helmet to keep out the cold.

“This is revenge, isn’t it? The carbonite sealant didn’t damage your relics that badly.” Aquila grumbles and checks their coordinates. Still a way to go to the mine.

“If I’m being hunted by another Sith, what’s the best place to hide? A Republic world.”

“This is not a Republic world. This is a Republic freezer. Sensible clients stay home and lock the windows until we eliminate the threat, but you? Oh no, have to drag me out to this ice ball in the Outer Rim for what? To dig our own karking crystal mine? Are you just gonna dowse for the right one and pounce through the snow like a vulptex?”

Malish’s laugh is warm even through the comm units in their helmets. “I  _ did _ tell you it was someone after my benefactor.”

“What could Sa’alle possibly want with your benefactor? Their matriarch was killed before you were born and in order to afford paying this much hazard pay, they’re gonna be parsecs away from any remaining Sa’alle’s pay grade. What could Cala’ty hope to accomplish here?” Aquila yanks on the sled with their gear when it catches on a chunk of ice. She mutters about kriffing ice worlds.

“You know a lot about Sa’alle for a Mandalorian.”

“She was a threat.”

Malish grunts and the conversation chills like the air. Aquila sighs. They’d been flipping between hot and cold ever since Lasek. And it’s not something a good snog will cure, not when they keep stumbling over conversational landmines and landing face-first in painful topics. They jerk back and forth like the ends of a bungee cord and she just wants Cala’ty Sa’alle dealt with, so she can throw off the job and get to the heart of whatever they have between them.

Malish clears his throat, making sure that she hears it. “And no, it’s an old mine, abandoned by the Republic some five hundred years ago. And before we enter…” He sighs and holds out a datachit that the wind threatens to claim for itself.

Before it can be damaged by the snow, Aquila stuffs it into a slot in her bracer. “What is it?”

Malish closes his hand over her bracer. “You can’t look at it. Promise me.”

The wind howls and batters them and holds them alone and isolated and the job seems so very far away. She steps up until their helmets nearly touch. “What is this? What’s going on, Sith? I swear by the ancestors, if this is some kind of Last Will and Testament, I’m going to pick you up and throw you all the way back to the landing station.”

His body shakes, but not from the cold. The electronics do his whisper no justice, but Aquila can imagine how it should sound. “It’s freedom. If you- If we’re somehow captured by the Republic, that datachit will set you free.”

“What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“It’s my job.”

“If that should happen, I’ll be fine. I swear it.”

Aquila claps her hand over his and then grabs hold of the sled again. “You are the worst client I’ve ever had the misfortune of working for.”

He waves the words out of the frozen air. “Yeah, yeah, Meshurok, love you, too.”

And the words are a joke, there’s no doubt there, but they stick in Aquila’s ears, in her throat, in her mind. She wants to howl at the injustice, but lets the wind do it for her. They don’t talk for the rest of the trudge. Aquila couldn’t if she tried, her mouth is sealed with words she can’t say. Her family is hunting Sa’alle; it’ll be soon and it’ll be an eternity before they can curl up together and let their hearts talk directly. 

She uses a free-standing flame-thrower on the entrance, carving out a path just big enough to drag the sled through. The mine walls are as pock-marked as Balmorra’s surface after the Treaty. It has none of the warm ambiance of the secret crevasse Fox had her pick her crystals from. Malish leads the way down a winding tunnel with durasteel supports and rusted cart-tracks. She monitors the HUD readings with every step. “The air’s not getting any less breathable.”

“It connects to a massive crevasse deeper in.”

“But the air-flow-”

“Look, I hate Jedi as much as any Mandalorian, but they know how to strip mine without killing people.” Malish removes his helmet and shakes out his hair. He pulls his scarf over his nose and mouth. He uses the helmet to gesture to the top of the supports. A pile of grey-blue vines twitches and reaches for it. “They stick a bunch of cold-weather plants in the tunnels. The Force in the crystals drags the air to them so they don’t die, conveniently keeping it breathable for humanoids.”

“I… Where did you learn all of these things, Sith?”

He lowers his head and pulls the scarf to hide the color in his cheeks. “I really love the crystals. I invented that net I used on Lasek. Most Forcers don’t care about anything that won’t power a lightsaber.”

“You what?! That was amazing! You mean I’ve been calling you an idiot all of this time for nothing?” They laugh together and the cord is pulling them together again, hearts first. 

Aquila maps their path through the tunnels on her HUD. She doesn’t need Malish to tell her they’re getting close to their destination. She can feel the pinpricks of Force and can see the temperature gauge raising with every meter. The dead end looks like nothing special. Just piles of disintegrated stone and pebbles tossed around.

Malish scoops up a handful of the pebbles and grinds them against each other between his palms. Thin casings flake off, revealing the small Force crystals within. He holds them out to her. “They mine with lasers that break down everything but the crystals. Then, they just sift the detritus, leaving behind anything below three by two by four.”

Aquila frowns and then shakes her head because he can’t see it. She plucks out the largest crystal, a dull, orange, lifeless thing. “But how do they orient crystals for the sifters? It could just fall through the wrong way.”

Hands held perfectly vertical, Malish’s eyes unfocus before glowing with sharp, white Force energy. The crystals shake and shift and when they still, they’re all aligned with their long sides the same direction.

“You’re a fucking wonder.”

\---

It feels a little like playing in the dirt as a child. When she hadn’t come into her Force Sensitivity and she and Aran had been inseparable. Malish doesn’t comment on the fact that she’s removed her helmet and gauntlets to dig through the small crystals, but his eyes lingered on her for too long for him to not have known there was significance to it. She doesn’t want to think about how close she is to revealing the truth. His truth, whatever the secret of the datachit is, lays within her reach. She could have it at any time. Claim she has to relieve herself, walk away and slot it into her armor and… Know.

She wants the secret, but she’ll take it from his mouth. Not his trust.

Trust that seems so very fragile when her fingers close over a perfect crystal. He needs red ones: much fewer resonate with him. And this one is red and only just too small to have been snatched away by the Jedi. It pulses with the beating of her heart as she rubs off the flakey stone shell. She pulls her Force into herself, lets the cold touch her hands again. When the crystal is quiet and still, she holds it out to him. The battle between hiding her face and watching his is quick and decisive. She needs to watch the joy and wonderful and pure delight twist his sharp, narrow features into something beautiful.

“This is perfect. Absolutely perfect.” Tears are in the corners of his eyes; how can he be so ridiculous? “Thank you.”

The earnest stare, the way his fingers try to curl with hers around the crystal, Aquila can’t take it. She stands. “You’re welcome.” She clears her throat and rubs the shaved side of her head. “Red was the last one you needed, right? I’m gonna run back to the entrance, see if the weather’s good to head back.”

“It’s normal to be affected… Meshurok.”

Aquila shoves her ears into her helmet before they can burn with the name he wanted to use. It’s stupid. Ridiculous. Six months isn’t long enough to fall in love and she wants to go shout in her dad’s face for another six because how  _ dare  _ he have fallen in love twice in half that time. The blizzard outside makes her want to scream at the stars because, of course, her stupid researcher Sith didn’t bring any overnight gear and she knew he wouldn’t, she did, but what protocol made her pack would be the death of her. Ripping off her helmet before she makes it back is the best course. Letting him read the truth on her face is easier than speaking.

“We’re stuck here? For how long? I didn’t bring any- Kriff!”

“It’s pretty temperate this deep in, at least.” She sets her helmet down and cracks into her gear. “You keep playing with your rocks. I’ll set up the tent.”

“Tent? But we’re inside.”

She looks up from her gear just to stare at him with both eyebrows raised.

“Right. Keep the heat in tighter. Of course. Ignore me.”

“I always do, Sith.” She chuckles at his snort. “You’re lucky Papa is a chiss. He sent along food you’ll like rather than standard Mandalorian fare.”

“I was wondering about that,” Malish says, wrist deep in the pebbles. “And don’t interrupt me, I’m not talking about blood. Sometimes you call him Papa and sometimes Dad and it’s just… Well, it sticks out.”

“I have two fathers. And then  _ buir _ keeps them both in line.”

“Oh. That makes much more sense. I thought maybe he acted very differently at times and it was whichever one suited the memory best. That doesn’t make sense, does it?”

“It does, since they act very differently. Dad is very silly. Papa likes everything in its proper place.” Aquila smiles, but it’s not at the erected tent. “They both say I’m like  _ buir _ and she says I’m just like Dad, but wearing her face.”

“Which is it?”

She meets his eyes and grins. “The resemblance is uncanny.”

He laughs. “I don’t think you’re that silly.”

“I’ll remember that you said that.”

Malish looks past her to what she’s doing and color floods his cheeks again. “That’s only one tent. And it’s rather small. And that’s a second sleeping bag you’re putting there. Because of thermodynamics. Right. Of course. Good thing you’re in charge. I never would have…”

“Don’t mention it,” Aquila says, desperately hoping he’ll stop talking about it. “We’ll sleep a few hours and then brave the snow drifts. Right now, it’s as much about our exhaustion as it is the storm.”

She can’t be blamed if they wake up with foreheads touching and breathing the same air. She’s too practiced, too professional to shift the wrong way, to slip and end up with their lips pressed together.

But that doesn’t mean she won’t enjoy it if he does.


	5. Like This

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love them??? So much???

“We can’t keep this up,” Malish says.

Aquila examines a datapad on his desk. “Is that why you came to sit out here? To indicate we’re having a serious conversation? We talk in your lab all day.”

“But we don’t. Not about things that…” He rubs his face with both hands. “I know you’re working, but surely this is more distracting? I can Sense you every minute of every day. You might as well not be wearing the armor.”

“That’s why we don’t rotate warriors out. No chance you’ll mistake me for an assassin.” She’s deliberately drawing away from the subject, but what is she supposed to do? Lie and tell him she’s not going crazy, too? Put her clan in danger by admitting she’s a Forcer and can Sense him just as well? Even with her T-visor on, she won’t look at his face.

“Your clan is hunting Cala’ty. Surely she’s too busy to…”

Aquila pushes off his desk and paces. “Your speeder was booby-trapped _yesterday._ She’s clearly not too concerned. It’s to her detriment; we’ll get her, but you’re still in danger.”

He catches her arm when she passes close. “You’re not telling me I’m wrong.”

“I literally just did. Your speeder exploded. Yesterday.”

“I know that, I mean- You know what I mean. About… Us.”

“You are under my charge for Tier 3 watchmanship. That’s on duty, all day, waking and sleeping. My job-”

Emotions burst out of him in a wave of Force that pulls at her heart. “There’s more to your life than your job, Aquila!”

Her name is a dagger in her chest that makes her breathing wild. It had hurt, keeping even this tenuous line between them, and now he’s crossed it. He’s crossed it and her heart is in her throat and tears prick at the corners of her eyes and it’s not fair. It’s not fair to have confirmation that it’s just her and job, her honor standing stalwart between them. She twists her arm and holds his wrist in return. “I’m Mandalorian. My job is my life.”

“Always?” The word is ripped from his throat by razor wire.

“Yes.” She squeezes his wrist. “But it won’t always be guarding you.”

Without releasing her, he slumps in his chair. “I don’t want to hold back anymore.”

“I don’t want you to get killed.”

He pulls her in and presses her armored knuckles to his cheek. “You’re impossible.”

“I know. Someone as great as me by all rights shouldn’t exist.” She cups his cheek as he laughs and smiles with such fondness that the ache in her chest burns.

“And insufferable. How does your mother deal with you and your dad?”

“Mostly with Papa’s help.” Her comm goes off and she pats his cheek before checking it. She’s cold from the first line with her bottom lip shaking. She checks the time and rips her helmet off. It falls from her numb fingers to his desk.

“Wha-”

He doesn’t even get the full word out before Aquila’s grabbed him by the collar with both hands and yanked him up. Their mouths meet with a hard crack of their foreheads and pained gasps that have nothing to do with the former. Malish clutches her around the shoulders for only a second before deciding that’s not good enough. One hand holds the back of her neck and the other rubs the shaved side of her head.

Aquila breaks the kiss with a laugh and puts her hand over his. “What are you doing?”

He kisses her again before answering and even that is a murmur against her lips. “I’ve wanted to feel this for ages.”

She presses her lips against his again, then moves them down until she’s leaving a trail of hot kisses on his neck. “I have softer places.”

Malish can’t talk past the pleased moans in his throat, so he grabs her ponytail and pulls the end out of her armor before wrapping it around his fist. He’s such a weak thing, she could break his hold easily. Except that she can’t. Not now, not now that Cala’ty Sa’alle is finally dead and she can spend all night drowning in the taste of him. She wants to talk more, but doesn’t want to put space between them. She kisses back up to his mouth, presses their foreheads together and stares into his eyes.

“It should go without saying, that message was saying you’re back to Tier 1 coverage.”

“I put that together, yes.”

They pant the same air and laugh, wrinkles in their eyes and foreheads pressed too tightly, noses smashed together. As they catch their breath, Aquila rubs their cheeks together. She whispers in his ear. “I still have duty in the morning, but until then…” There aren’t words for what she wants, for the intimate closeness of being wrapped in each other’s Life Force, for their hearts to finally beat together as they’ve wanted to for months. So she doesn’t try to give it words, just lets him hear the desperate, pleading call of her heart that’s been caught in her throat since Lasek.

He shivers and presses their cheeks harder together. “Aquila, I haven’t- I don’t have-”

“That’s fine.” Aquila brings their mouths together and holds both of his cheeks. “We’ll figure it out together, Malish. It’s never been… Like this before.” She rubs some of the wetness off her cheeks and laughs. “Look at this? I- I feel so much I’m crying. This is what you do to me.”

“This is what we are together.”

\---

“Are you cold?” Malish laughs and forces his way into Aquila’s cocoon of blankets with much tugging. He wraps his arm around her waist and rests his head on her shoulder.

“Don’t make fun. I live in a very-climate controlled environment.”

“Of all of the words used to describe Mandalorians, pampered has never been one of them.”

She gives him a light pinch on the arm. “Don’t be a brat. Even without my armor, I can throw you across the room.”

“Isn’t it a little early in the relationship for that?”

Aquila laughs and presses their foreheads together. Then she changes her mind and kisses him instead. “You’re a spoiled, Sith brat,” she murmurs against his lips. “Even if you did hang the stars.”

“Hang the stars… That’s poetic.” He looks up at the hanging Force crystals and the soft light reflects in his eyes. “I just wanted to see the wonder you had on your face when you saw my lab for the first time. I could tell from your body language… But your helmet was in the way.”

“So in addition to being a researcher and the softest Sith to ever make it off Korriban, you’re a hopeless romantic.”

He touches the bridge of her nose and then caresses down her cheek. “With you is the only time I’ve ever felt hopeless. The armor held you back, first, then your dedication to the job was a wall I couldn’t break through.”

She kisses his fingers. “Did you consider using a door?”

“Not until you hit me in the face with it, but here we are, regardless.” They laugh and Malish nuzzles his face under her chin. “This won’t be easy, Aquila. I have secrets you need to know, but that aren’t mine to share.”

“ _Mando’ade_ don’t waste time on easy things. And I might not be _ver’alor,_ but _buir_ is _alor._ I carry the same burden, but we’ll figure it out. We have time now.” She pulls his face in by his cheek and they kiss: soft and warm. “Day after tomorrow, Lelle will relieve me so I can go home.”

Propped up on both arms, Malish looks down at her. “You’re leaving?” The question isn’t a demand; it’s a wish.

She holds one arm and strokes the other. “Just for a week or so. I’ve not been home in more than six months. I need to see my twin, my parents.”

“You have a twin?”

She huffs a laugh. “Yes. Aran. He’s nothing like me. Came out all Papa, somehow. Reserved, serious, particular. You’ll like him if you can get talking about details.”

Emotions twist across Malish’s face before settling on desperate hope. “You want me to meet him?”

“Of course. We’re in this now, up to our necks. No use fighting the current.” She squeezes his arms.

“What about when you get a new assignment?”

“Well, I won’t plan for any long term gigs. Come visit in between. Drag you to the _yaim._ Some clans’ll work against past employers, but not us, so we don’t have to worry about that. Like you said, not easy, but we’ll make it work.” Her voice falls to a whisper. “I want this so much it hurts. We’ll make it work.”

Malish rubs his tears from his cheeks to hers and then drops his full weight on her chest. He laughs when she grunts and slaps him on the back. He kisses her complaints away and they give up on talking for the night.


	6. Broken

For a moment, everything is perfect. Ten days away did nothing to cool the passion or stymie the love between them. Aquila isn’t afraid of the word anymore. Love isn’t easy, no, but it can be whatever she wants it to be if she’s willing to put the work in. She’ll fight to have him beam at her with such pure joy every time she comes home. Home. Because what’s home to a Mandalorian if not the place their heart bursts fullness and light? The place where their Life Force resonates so purely they can fall apart and be put back together into the same person from pieces that might not have started as theirs?

Yes, Aquila loves Malish, which isn’t the name he was born with, but that name is silly, everyone agrees. He doesn’t call her Aky because everyone calls her Aky, even Papa who is so formal. He calls her Aquila because he loves all of her, not just the easily digestible parts everyone does. He hasn’t said the words yet, either. Their secrets are in the way, which is okay, but she’ll shove the words out soon. Tonight, maybe, once there can be no mistaking it for a sex-fueled proclamation. After she reveals her gift. There’s no hiding it anymore, not after it lit up the stars overhead to near-blinding. His power contributed, neither can keep it locked in when they come, let alone with so little time in between. Her eyes hurt from staring at him, from the brightness, but everything is perfect.

Until the stars fade and it’s not love pulling at the corners of his mouth. The spark in his eyes is horror, not joy. She gasps and chokes because his Force is cold, twisted and writhing against her. It’s a vibroknife scraping lacqerous: screeching, flinching and painful to something more than flesh. She reaches for him, but he’s gone, backing up, shivering and shaking his head. The denials in his mind are so loud she can almost hear them, but she doesn’t understand, doesn’t know what’s happening.

“Malish-” His name isn’t enough to stop him. She almost wishes she’d pushed, pressed for the name he was born with. Maybe it would take her plea deep enough to reach him. Maybe it wouldn’t matter. He’s locked in the bathroom retching. Aquila wraps the blanket around her like it’ll bring back the comfort of his Force and takes shaking steps to the door she warded against all intruders. She knocks. “Malish? What’s wrong? Are you okay? Please, I don’t- Please.”

He answers only with another retch that pulls her own stomach inside out. She presses her body against the door, unused to her own yielding flesh, and reaches for him in the Force. Fuck a soft confession, she needs to know he’s alright.

“Malish, let me-”

“Get out.” It’s not his voice. It’s a horrible thing laced with Force and hate and it grates her skin like brambles.

“What’s-”

“I said leave!” The door rattles with his shout and the crystals behind her glow, but only the red ones, only the ones that call to the rawest, deepest emotions.

She beats on the door with her fist alone: no armor, no Force, just her heart’s blood splashing against the unyielding electrum. “Tell me what’s wrong!”

His face bursts through the door, a purple and black miasma that puts Aucht’s illusions to shame. The tiny points on his incisors, just slightly more than human, morph into fangs that drip black, steaming blood. “Leave this place and never return, Mandalorian.”

And it’s fear like she’s never known before that locks her body and sends her shivering to the floor. The apparition can’t hurt her. She could dispel it with a snap of her fingers. It’s the agony in his voice that threatens her with claws of pain. Tears spill down her cheeks, searing and freezing at once because she loves him and something is so very wrong. She’s still trying to think, trying to swallow, when the vision barks again.

“I said go. Where is your honor, now?”

That’s what breaks it. The tiny, nascent shell of their love that’s supposed to protect them from the difficulties breaks. The pieces clatter to the floor around her and her heart breaks. Shaking hands replace her _kute,_ then her armor. She leaves his bedroom, his living quarters, and takes her helmet from his desk. She warded his bathroom. Made it a nigh impenetrable panic room for if the worse came. _Nigh_ impenetrable.

A blast that’s equal parts Force and EMP disables the defenses. She throws the door aside and lunges in. Aquila’s armored fingers bite deep into his jaw, ripping it away from where he’s busily coughing bile into the drain. Despair, pain, anger, self-loathing and more swirl in his eyes, easily picked out by her Force, but no fear.

“I said go,” he croaks, his voice broken.

The blank face of her T-visor gives him no comfort. “Subsection Dorne Three Dot Six: the client cannot cancel the contract while under the effects of external duress. I, Aquila Meshurok, have discerned to my satisfaction that no outside force has pushed this decision. Effective immediately, the contract is complete and there will be no further contact with the client.”

She releases him and he falls to the floor, curling up with his knees to his chest. But her cheeks are just as wet and her heart’s blood is splashed across his bedroom, so she leaves without another word.

\---

Aquila is an adult. She earned his armor years ago and goes on solo hunts and takes solo jobs. She makes her own food and leads operations. She had even been planning to adopt her first child when she was given the body guarding gig. None of that stops her from curling into her _buir_ ’s lap and crying into her neck. Papa is behind her, tying up her hair in fancy plaits with plastoid beads. Her ribs hurt from contracting with sobs, but the tears won’t stop.

Carina pets her cheek and makes comforting sounds deep in her chest. “Do you want to hear what your idiot brother has been up to?”

Aquila wails, but it’s a slightly higher pitched cry than the earlier ones, the closest she can get to a yes.

“Cakara, the new warrior from Tiyaar, grew up with Vee on Eshan. He’s still not doing well from Terenti, of course, but he’s decided to take comfort from her on his back.”

She almost laughs, a miserable croak slithering out between the sobs.

“They’re not subtle. I don’t know how you missed it when you came home,” Rathi adds.

The gentle tug-tug-slip would put her to sleep if she wasn’t so set on crying out every, last drop of water from her body. She works her jaw to respond, but only lets out moans that vary in pitch rather than “I was busy telling Dad about all the cool Force things I saw.”

They seem to understand regardless. Carina massages the back of her neck. “And Aran, too. He complained all day yesterday that you couldn’t shut up about the crystals hanging from the ceiling.” She ignores Aquila’s loud outcry. “Cakara’s afraid of your dad, you know. Apparently our favorite show off is even more of a posturing orobird than we thought.”

Orobird sets her off again, which makes Papa pause in confusion until _buir_ meets his gaze and says “Slippers.”

“Of course,” he says. “You can do better than that silly boy, anyway, Love. You need someone that can go toe-to-toe with you when you’re frustrated.”

Aquila clings to the neck of _buir_ ’s cuirass and pulls her knees closer to her chest. She makes more unintelligible noises.

“I know you’ll always have your brothers-”

“No buts!” Aquila shoves the words past the sobs. “I love him and I just want to know he’s alright. You didn’t see him, _buir._ Something was so wrong, but he wouldn’t talk to me.”

“Fox, _riduur,_ can you call Oct and make sure the boy’s alright?”

Dad pokes his head in the door. “Before or after I finish the snack?”

“No!” She rolls out of _buir_ ’s lap and stumbles to her feet. She grabs onto the couch to keep from falling over and wobbles like a newly hatched acklay. “I don’t want Aucht to root around in his head!”

“ _Ad’ika_ if it was as bad as you said, I’m sure he’s curled up in Na’li’a’s lap right now.”

The words are like an adrenaline injection. Aquila’s muscles straighten and stiffen. Mechanically, she turns on her heel to face _buir_ and Papa. Her words are even, if laced with hysteria. “Na’li’a. Are you trying to tell me… That Malish’s stupid name that no one ever uses… Is Cassio?”

“Oh dear,” Dad says in the moment before Force lightning sparks off of her cheek and forks through the air. “I’ll call Vee in.”

“That imbecilic, bottom-feeding _cretin_ is Aucht’s son?” The pitch of her voice raises so much Dad’s glass akk dog threatens to shatter. Aquila gestures around the room, to her mother’s tear-stained armor and the pile of braiding tools at Rathi’s feet. “You’re saying that this, all of this, is because he thought I was going to hurt Sailens?”

Her parents are silent as they catch up with her logic. _Buir_ and Papa both just look resigned and tired, rubbing their foreheads in identical motions. Carina sighs. “Did the two of you never talk about your families?”

“The clan hiding Forcers isn’t my secret to share!”

Rathi takes his own sigh. “And Cassandra being his sister was his?”

“That’s no reason to- to fire me! I did my job well! End the relationship before it began, fine, but to sack me in dishonor like that? I’m going to kill him. How dare-” Force lightning sparks from her nose and cuts her eyebrow. She closes her eyes and clenches her jaw. “Vee better be rested.”


	7. Suited

Predawn light diffuses through the trees surrounding Clan Meshurok’s _yaim._ Aquila’s eyes are sore and crusted with the salty remnants of tears. She’s left her twin to stew in his hangover because she’s expected. The trees give way to a cliff, roots hanging over the edge grasping for chunks of land long-lost. With his legs hanging over the edge sits her dad, red hair tied up in as many twisted plaits as her own. She sits next to him, their armor scraping together at the closeness. He puts his arm around her waist. “Hey little bird.”

She swipes at her eyes. “My heart hurts.”

“It’s like that sometimes,” he says, kissing her temple. “With Rathi, especially. Before we had Carina to crack our heads together and make us talk, things got iffy.”

“I can see that.”

Fox’s laugh is as clear as the morning sky. “What a bad child. You’re supposed to say it’s unbelievable. We’re perfect! Perfect!”

“You and Papa are a menace. You should send Uncle Ivan another fruit basket.” She grins and ducks her head.

“I will. And one for his boyfriend. You know Ilena, right? Miri that flirts with the Dark Side like your mother flirts with caf? It’s her father.”

“So they bond over recalcitrant children?”

He taps her on the nose. “I’ve never been fired quite as spectacularly as you were.”

In a flash, she grabs her dad’s hand and holds it in both of hers. “He’s an idiot.”

“Runs in the family.”

“Aucht may be a little dramatic, but he’s not stupid. Na’li’a wouldn’t tolerate it.”

He chuckles and turns to watch the sunrise. “You’d be surprised how much she puts up with. Sailens was planned. Sybil didn’t catch him; he went to her.”

It’s such an unbelievable claim, Aquila can only shake her head. “I suppose you would know.” She sighs. “I just… I was so afraid. It hurt. Like having my intestines ripped out through my nose-”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Rathi.”

“-but that wasn’t the bad part. The worst was thinking I’d hurt him. That I’d done something wrong and broken something fundamental between us. He’s so good for me, Dad. Papa says I deserve better, but he’s perfect. He doesn’t understand. I need him.”

With a comforting noise in the back of his throat, Fox squeezes her hands. “I know, little bird. It’s not that you need him to be whole. It’s that when you’re together, there’s twice as much of you.”

“With Aran, it’s- He’s just another me. Two little birds: one with the Force, one with Papa’s brain and we just- We don’t have to talk, we just are. But that’s all we are. We’re just… Little bird.” Words crowd in her mouth with a sob. She keeps one hand twined with her father’s and wipes the tears away with the other. “I don’t know how to explain it. How good we are together. How it’s just meant to be.”

“You don’t have to explain it to me. I understand. I feel it every day. I’m more myself for having your mom and papa in my life. Doesn’t make sense, does it? You’d think other people would make you more like them and less like yourself, but love doesn’t make sense at the best of times.”

“What do I, Dad? It’s so, so fucking stupid, but I still feel like I’m bleeding out.”

Below them, birds chirp their morning greetings and rustle the leaves. The forest teems with life and the Force. They bask in it while Fox thinks of how to answer. He moves his hand to her shoulder. “Carina would tell you to find him and talk it out.”

“You don’t think I should?”

“Your mother… _Riduur, alor,_ she doesn’t really understand the kind of power you and I have. How important it is to be absolutely sure that the ones we love will come back when it hurts and aren’t just… enthralled by our everything.”

The rising sun holds her gaze until it hurts, then Aquila looks down at her hands. Her gauntlets are cyan and white, but their own harshness is lost in the sunrise. She swallows. “I think she does know. Vee’s the one she’s training as her successor, not me. She knows I’d never be secure in why they follow me.”

“A whole clan is different than one, silly researcher.”

“So what do I do?”

“Forgive him.”

\---

The staging ground for the Rencarn Debacle, as _alor_ had taken to calling it, is an abandoned mining station in the midrim. Aucht owns it and the refurbished sections bear his mark with heavy, austere wall hangings and thick rugs that squish under _beskar._ Only the leaders and their entourages are staying in the station itself, but that’s enough to make it a hive of activity. Clan Cerar’s warriors cluster near Meshurok’s, eyeing the Forcers with suspicion, despite the alliance. Lestére’s people all wear his livery with the sharp, red butterfly, while Aucht’s have no dress code and loiter in their native dress.

Aquila can feel Malish. Her armor and the metal walls and whatever mental defenses he has aren’t enough to keep her out. She wants to go him, aches for it, but holds her ground. Yes, the situation is more to blame than anything, but… But she loves him so much. It gnaws on the inside of her chest and claws at her thoughts. She can’t start giving him allowances because once she does she won’t stop. Already up to her neck in the sea of emotion, she can’t afford to let things go.

The open door to a lounge calls to her. She taps her mother on the shoulder and tilts her head toward it.

“You don’t need to be present for this meeting. It’s going to be a lot of introductions and you know everyone important.” Carina rotates her head to signal she’s rolling her eyes beneath her helmet. “I expect half of it to be Lestére and Aucht posturing at each other.”

“And Xalonie pretending she’s some kind of bastion of disinterest and neutrality on the matter,” Aquila says. She laughs. “One of them is going to go native and my money’s on her.”

“One of them?”

“They burn too hot to only be around part time. If he- If we- You know. If it works out, we’re passionate enough about our jobs that we’re not giving them up. For anything. And we wouldn’t be… What we are to each other if we weren’t like that.”

“You can just say you love him.” Carina touches their helmets together. “You stay here. Leave the meeting to us. No one will ask questions if you don’t come back to the ship tonight. Your shift isn’t until mid-afternoon. But don’t be late.”

“Thanks, _alor_.”

“Love you, _ad’ika._ I’d better get going, even though half of these posturing boys are going to be fashionably late.” They exchange a laugh and part ways.

Pacing the lounge does nothing to ease the empty ache in her chest. The maw of pain gasps and gapes as he’s closer or further and it’s her own fault for pacing, but Aquila can’t stop. Nervous energy crawls across her skin leaving trails of anxiety. What if he doesn’t come to her? Doesn’t apologize? What if Aucht didn’t tell him who she was? What if her true identity wasn’t enough to change his mind and allay his fears? She doesn’t want the Sa’alle power. She doesn’t want anything bought with blood.

The door swings in with no help from Malish’s hand, though he closes it behind himself manually. Anxiety drips off him like a heavy rain and drops to the floor with his mask. He stands close enough to touch and stares into the black T on her helmet as if he’s just as helpless as her. “Aquila.” He lifts a hand, but can’t bring himself to touch her. “Aquila. I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t have sent you away like that. I don’t know what else I could have done, but that’s the problem, isn’t it? It’s not about what I could have done. _We_ would have figured something out. Even gagged by other people’s secrets.”

The very tip of her armored fingers traces the vellum-thin skin under his eye. They hardly dare to breathe. She removes her helmet and clips it to her belt. “Cassio is a really stupid name.”

They’re laughing and crying and breathing raw emotion into the air, foreheads pressed together. Arms hold arms tight so they don’t hug the life out of each other. They laugh and cry and want to scream because it’s too much, it’s too much to stare into each other’s eyes without any secrets hiding the depths of their souls.

“It really, really is,” Malish whispers, the words wrapping around her heart like a hug. “I don’t know why Mother let him name me that.”

“Love.” Aquila chokes on the word and laughs again. “Just love, right? Makes us all so fucking stupid.”

Then he grabs her, holds her around the shoulders and presses their cheeks close like their tears will glue them together. “I almost tore down the sky, before I knew. But I couldn’t. It was yours. Still yours. I could feel you in the crystals.” A sob leaps out of his chest. “Love.”

“Yeah. Just love.”


	8. Inherent, Inherited

Malish’s net of energy and Force crystals hangs from the ceiling in his quarters. The glowing rainbow does little in the way of brightening the room, giving them just enough light to see each other’s features. Not that it matters when they’re pressed nose to nose with hands that won’t stay still. Without secrets over their souls, Force dances from Aquila’s hand to Malish’s face and caresses his cheeks before sinking into the light in his eyes. He brushes their noses together. “How was I so blind I couldn’t see your gift?”

“You were waiting for me to show you.” She twists a lock of his hair between her fingers. “And you’re so much like your father, but I missed it.”

“I’m not nearly as tiring as Father.”

Aquila laughs and kisses him. “Objectively, I know he’s powerful and terrifying, but I’ve never seen him try to be. He just seems so… Silly with all of the grandstanding and theatrics.”

The crystals dim. “It’s different now, since Sai got sick. He’s managed to contain it, but you don’t- She asked for help, Aquila. She’s never been afraid in her life.”

“I know. Cerar’s in an uproar, too. Their _alor_ ’s son is the twin of Sai’s husband or whatever they’re calling their relationship. Anyway, if he gets sick it’ll spread to Xalonie, too, which has Lestére up in arms.” She keeps her voice low, as if whispering will keep it from coming to fruition.

Malish hooks his ankle behind her knee and holds her tight. “Will you get it from them? Because you’re also…” Their faces touch when he pauses to swallow. “Also a Sa’alle?”

“No. I’m a higher branch on the family tree. They would have to pass it to their mother for it to get to me.”

“And she’s dead.”

“And she’s dead. Dad paid-”

“I know,” Malish interrupts. He puts a finger over her lips. “I’m working from his research so no one has to suffer like our families did. He never wears the armor when I consult him. I guess that’s how I forgot? How I never saw the resemblance? The thing you share, it’s- How can I explain it?”

“We’re so boldly and viscerally our own selves that it’s difficult to see us as anything, or anyone, other than who we are.” She presses her cheek into the warmth of his palm. Their lips are close, so close that she can’t help but bridge the gap between them. The kiss is as soft as a whisper. Just a touch, a brush like hands hidden under a table or the very tips of fingers hooked together as they walk. It could be more: hot, pleading and passionate, but instead it simply holds them close.

“I love you, Aquila.”

“I love you, stupid name.”

The laugh surprises Malish and sparks brilliant light from the crystals overhead. Their foreheads pressed together, he laughs into her mouth and breathes her joy into his heart. “Will you ever let that go?”

“No. Your father is a complete ponce. You know, when Papa told me what your name was I choked on my food and cried laughing. I brought it up the next time I saw Sai and she tried to hit me. With her fist! And you’re doing the same little, annoyed, nose wrinkle she did.” Aquila taps his nose and then kisses it. “I love your nose and its freckles.”

“I look so gentle and- and harmless.” The word rolls off his tongue like a curse and he looks ready to bite hers when she laughs. “But I care too much about my research to be like Father and waste all of my time looking scary. So I gave up and mother bought me the slippers and now here we are.”

“I want a pair.” Aquila wiggles her toes and pinches his leg with them. “I don’t even have shoes. Just boots. Clonk, clank all the time and then cold feet if I get out of bed for anything.”

“I can heat the floors in my suite, you know.”

Their lips brush and they stare at each other through half-lidded eyes. “You could,” she says, “but I still want a pair.”

“Both works for me. Do you want them to match?”

“Surprise me.”

\---

The very air thrums with Force energy. Sailens and Xalonie take turns glaring at each other and then the Mandalorians. Most of the Mandalorians, anyway. Xalonie’s Galaar stands at attention behind her shoulder with his helmet on. Aquila lounges on a couch between Malish and Vee. Cakara sits on the arm next to Vee, tuning her vibroblade. Sai stalks into the center of the room, black and red robes swirling with each step, and slashes her arm at Aquila. It’s a mottled, purple-blue from her Force sickness. “Was now really the best time to start kriffing my brother?”

“Sai…” Malish starts.

“Neither of us have Force bonds with anyone, so I don’t see how it’s relevant to the operation at hand,” Aquila says, her face smooth, despite the annoyance pulling at the corners of her eyes and mouth.

“Passing the Sa’alle mantle to me does not remove our blood from your veins, Aquila. You have a responsibility-”

“Can it, Cassandra,” Xalonie snaps. Dressed head to toe in Imperial Special Forces gear, she would look like a soldier if not for her lightsabers and the bright, red butterfly across her entire face. “You knew Rencarn was pushing Aaron at you and you pursued him anyway.”

“She was thirteen!” Aaron interjects. His robes are black with red trim and the Sa’alle insignia on his back to brandish his connection to Sailens. “Excuse us for not being able to see through Sith power-plays _as children._ Not everyone is the heir of two Sith dynasties.”

“And yet I was raised by a Jedi and did not fall victim to-”

In a flash, Vee launches himself out of his seat and grabs Sai’s right hand. He leans in and she gasps, her knees giving out as he uses his gift on her. Aaron catches her before she can fall to the ground. Her arm has lost some of the unnatural color and she experimentally wiggles her fingers before glaring at him. The outburst of motion is enough to silence the bickering.

Vee removes his helmet and tosses it over his shoulder to Cakara. His black tattoos sharpen his features and make him look wild despite his even expression. “The time to stop arguing was when Sailens got sick. The second best time is now. None of you idiots have lost anything in your pampered lives and if you don’t get along you could lose everything. You can fight over who’s the prettiest princess in the room when none of my family is on the line.”

He runs a hand over his braid. “Everyone likes to joke about Lord Aucht’s theatrics, but he has all of Fox’s power and none of his conscience. If Sai’s condition deteriorates much further, the entire galaxy will feel his wrath.”

Malish sits up straighter. “And while Aaron isn’t a Child of the Emperor or a Conduit, he can create Force bonds at will. If he has nothing left to lose, enemy or ally won’t matter.”

“I’m standing right here!”

“But he’s not wrong,” Cakara says. She uses the Echani gesture to signify all of Aaron. “Your body says it all. We may as well be lab tukata for all we mean to you. You don’t even care that you have a twin. I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. You Sith gotta do what Sith do to stay afloat, but it does mean we have to get along.”

“ _Alor_ arranged this meeting so we could straighten this out before the battle.” The illusion hiding Aquila’s Sa’alle marks dissipates. Her eyes glow yellow and the ambient Force is sucked out of the air. “We don’t have the luxury of sibling rivalries anymore. I’m Mandalorian. Sai is a sorceress. Xalonie is Imperial Military. None of us wants what the other has. There’s nothing to compete over. Galaar needs this Sith kark resolved so he can figure out what the fuck he’s going to do with his life.”

“So why are they here?” With a nose wrinkle copied from his wife, Aaron crosses his arms over his chest. He jerks his chin at Vee and Cakara.

“To ensure we don’t lie and posture all day. And it worked.” Aquila stands. “Any last grievances to air before we start this.”

“He’s my _brother,_ Meshurok,” Sai hisses.

“And if he hadn’t been protecting you, I would have known that before this happened, but it did. He’s an adult who made a choice and you’re enough of one to accept it.”

“If you hurt him, we’ll quickly find out just how much it takes to overpower the Sa’alle geas.”


	9. Complexity

Blindfolded, Imperial soldiers line the halls of Aucht’s mining station. His device, a black webwing with six red eyes, sits over the Imperial sigil. Each one stands at parade rest, silent and imposing with their uniforms starched to cutting seams and their hands behind their backs. Aquila prods them with the Force as she walks past with her parents and Vee. They don’t react, but they’re real, not illusions placed to intimidate the  _ jetii. _ Distaste curls in her stomach, but the display says Aucht isn’t any happier about the erstwhile alliance than she is. 

A large, oval table dominates the conference room. The center is cut out and replaced with a dormant holoterminal. Dad and  _ buir _ sit in full  _ beskar _ while Papa is dressed in an Ascendency uniform. His old House Arimo pin glitters on his collar as if he never abandoned it. Aquila and Vee stand behind them, adopting the same posture as the soldiers outside. Aucht was the only person in the room when they arrived, but he still isn’t visible. Cerar’s  _ alor _ and Galaar enter next, positioning themselves next to  _ buir _ and Vee respectively.

Yollan Lestére and Xalonie sweep in next. Neither wears a mask. Where Xalonie’s House Marks are the same sharp red as the Sa’alles’, her father’s are black. He pauses with a hand on the back of his chair. “Taldin. We finally meet.”

“Hopefully for the last time,” Cerar’s leader growls from his helmet.

“I understand your reticence, but we cannot ignore the younger-”

“Father, when the time comes, I will handle affairs myself,” Xalonie says. The words hang on a thread of tension in the air until Yollan nods and takes his seat.

Aucht’s twin, though dressed as a common pilot, sits next to his masked wife, Darth Vallen. A buzz of Force in the air hints at a silent conversation between the brothers. Marks proudly bared, Sailens sits next to her uncle with Malish behind her shoulder. He doesn’t look at Aquila, but a tendril of his Force brushes against hers like a nekkar.

“Aucht, the robes are here,” a green mirialan says from the door. She opens her mouth, but snaps it closed without saying anything. After licking her lips, she tries again. “They brought two apprentices. Both as bad off as Sai, though the echani’s hiding it pretty well.”

Sailens says nothing and doesn’t move, but her eyes flash yellow and there’s a tremor in the Force.

At last, the Jedi arrive and Aucht’s apprentice directs them to the two empty seats opposite the head of the table. They’re both miralukan women with silk masks covering just their eye sockets. The human apprentice is green around the gills: sweating and pale. The echani stands with a straight back and even expression, but his snow-white skin is tinted blue and purple from the sickness. The apprentice gives introductions clockwise around the table, beginning with Yollan Lestére and ending with “Fox Meshurok,” who sits in the place of honor.

She bows. “Should you require anything, I am Trilenali. May I present our host, my master, Lord Aucht, Dreameater, of the Sith?”

The illusions hiding Aucht fade and even though Aquila knows he’s standing on a box, the architecture of the room and design of the table hide it. He places both hands flat on the table. “Thank you for joining us, Masters Ultin and Killian. Your presence here was requested by Lestére, though in your time you knew him by a different name. Before we begin, Vee, an auxiliary healer from Clan Meshurok, will administer a serum to your… Padawans that will alleviate some symptoms of the sickness. As the serum is of Mandalorian design, I ask that you respect their ways and do not ask for the recipe.”

The human apprentice staggers towards the Mandalorians before his masters even agree. Desperation and tears are clear in his eyes as he holds out his hands in supplication. Vee takes his right wrist and pushes back his sleeve, but moves no further until Master Ultin, whose mask is blue, nods her head and gestures assent. The injection is a harmless saline solution to disguise Vee’s Conduit ability. It chills the body like the saline and doesn’t create Force ripples the way regular talents do. The echani slumps against the table at his own injection before collecting himself and helping his friend back to their positions.

Master Ultin leans forward and folds her hands on the table in front of her. “There is an astonishing amount of Sa’alle blood in the room.”

Aucht nods, showing no reaction on his face or in the Force. Ultin could be expected to know Xalonie was a Sa’alle, but “astonishing amount” implies more than two. “Not all of Sybil’s plans died with her, as is the way with the Force. And beyond that, Rencarn seems to hold her in particular disregard despite her death. There are more within his power, though they may be beyond restoration.”

“We know of Vonar’s three apprentices. None are Sa’alle or even women,” Master Killian says.

At a gesture from her father, Sailens stands. She activates the holoterminal and the images of Rencarn’s apprentices appear. “I am best acquainted with his operation. We will begin with his youngest apprentice: Aaron.”

\---

“What have you done?” Malish drops his cup of tea. The porcelain shatters on the floor.

Aquila checks a datapad and adjusts the settings on her armor from the vambrace console. She flexes her fingers to feel the change and tweaks the numbers again. “Your father gave the order. Sai can’t barely carry the weight of the Family now. She’ll collapse from the feedback in Rencarn’s ritual hall.”

He crosses the room with Force-lengthened steps before grabbing her arm. “What feedback? What haven’t you told me? Since when is Sai’s condition so bad? Is she alright? I thought Vee was siphoning off enough of the curse.”

“It’ll be alright, Malish.” Prying his fingers off one by one, she detaches him and squeezes his hand. “With your research, I thought you knew the implications of being Head of the Family.”

“I’m trying to get rid of the blood bonds, not figure out what they do. And, and every family is different and-”

“But you have Dad’s research.”

“And he already knew what the Sa’alle geas did. He didn’t need to put it in his notes. Aquila, please, is Sai okay?”

After closing the vambrace console, she pulls him into a hug. She presses her forehead against him. “As fine as she was the last time you saw her. She was hiding the strain behind her stoicism, but your father noticed and ordered me to take control of the Family back. The weight is… It’s a vague awareness of everyone with the blood. It gets sharper when they’re in danger or performing complex sorcery, but it’s a Force presence… Inside. Harder to block out.”

Their bedroom is cold and silent as the information sinks in. Malish’s voice trembles when he whispers, “Father said there were others. Others under Rencarn’s power. They’re in danger, aren’t they? Constantly?”

“In agony,” she agreed. “Four, unceasing howls for salvation. They are likely trapped inside their own minds, able to act, because it never wavers. Aucht lied to the Jedi, Malish.” Her voice falls to a whisper. “Sybil gave some of her daughters to Rencarn before her death. Even when Sai had the strength to block the screaming, there’s the creeping fear that it could have been her suffering this eternal torment.”

“Horrible, horrible.” Tears fall from his eyes and he pulls away to hide the anguish clawing at his face. “How could she? Why? I don’t understand.”

“There’s no logic in it,  _ cyare. _ Look at Rencarn’s plan. A curse spread through Force bonds? Aaron’s gift is so rare as to be unheard of and even he formed only one. It just doesn’t make any sense as a distribution method unless every vector he infects also shares his gift and even then most minds can’t handle more than a few bonds. Overuse of the Dark Side causes this… madness. Self-sabotage. It’s only thanks to these blood bonds that the old Families have mostly-linear succession.”

“I knew the Dark Side corrupted, but I didn’t think this was how it manifested.” Malish pulls at his ponytail. “Father skirts the line regularly. His eyes are yellow as much as blue. Is he still…?”

“Aucht’s talents make him less susceptible. If he ever loses himself, it will be intentional.” Aquila drags him close again and touches his cheek. “Dad almost died because he wasn’t willing to cross the line. He says that if he did, if he ever goes too far, then he may as well be dead. Papa told me how he was back then… It was the only time I’ve ever been afraid of our gift. We’re so strong, Malish, but there are limits.”

“And all these years, I’ve just been tinkering in my lab without a thought for-”

“Stop. You can’t start thinking that way. I watched you work for six months-”

“You’re not a sorcerer-”

“It needs a sacrifice!” The word ‘sacrifice’ bangs into the metal walls and echoes around them. “I hope you already knew that your father killed people to do what he does because there is no doubt.  _ Buir _ and I have brought him slavers over the years. I’m complicit; I’m not calling him a monster. I just need you to know, to really know, in your soul, that you’re safe from the madness.”

His fingers dig into her cheeks and he stares at her like he’s reading her soul. He could, with his talents. He could knock on the vault and she’d let him in, but he doesn’t. His voice is as thin as leaves at the height of autumn. “I knew he did. I just thought it was Dark Side-”

“The Dark Side is just chaos. Chaos is creativity. Change. There’s nothing inherently wrong with the Dark Side. It’s how most Sith use it that causes… problems.”

“I know. That’s why the corruption never made sense to me. Why wouldn’t father just explain it like this?”

“He has a soft spot in his heart with your stupid name on it. He probably didn’t want you to know anything bad about him.”

Malish tucks his head under her chin and wraps his arms around her. The net of Force crystals above them glows sharply blue. “My family needs to sit down and have a lot of talks when this is over.”

“That’s what  _ buir’s _ been saying for years.”


	10. Love

The Force flows through Aquila like blood, beating in time with her heart and lending her strength. Still, when she and Aran are together they move with the synchronicity of creepy twins from a horror holo. Their armor snaps and fastens together with singular, loud snaps that echo in the mining base. Aran takes after their father with lighter skin and hair that’s red without sunlight. He wears it pulled back in a tight ponytail that explodes in a complex mass of braids - Morathis’ handiwork.

“Missed having you around on ops,” he says.

“We’ll go on a hunt once Sai’s better.” Aquila checks over her weapons and loads them one by one into her armor. Her hands linger over her lightsaber hilt, normally hidden in her cuirass. The crystal is one of Malish’s. One he plucked from Ilum with his own hands. One that resonates for both of them like a song binding them together.

“You’ve been throwing a lot of stones at Galaar, considering.” Aran gives her an open-handed slap on the shoulder.

Aquila shoves her own mass of braids into the back of her chest piece and shrugs. “Our situations aren’t analogous. Their relationship is based on working together. If  _ buir _ reassigned him, everything would fall apart. Spectacularly, I might add. You’d think Xalonie was Aucht’s kid with how much she postures.”

“And yet, you and Dad still have all of the charisma in the entire Sa’alle family.” Aran poked her cheek when she scowled at him. “That’s a good thing! But you’re changing the subject. You’re back on regular duty now. What are you going to do?”

Metal clinks as Aquila straps down her last weapon - a vibrosword. “Holocalls.” She shrugs again. “He’ll come by the  _ yaim _ when he has time. I’ll drop by when I’m on Kaas. Send him chintzy garbage that sparkles real nice.”

“Just… Like that?”

“Just like that.”

“Ancestors in the sky, you really are Dad.”

They knock their foreheads together and laugh. “You came out like Papa, somehow.”

“And that’s why I’m  _ buir _ ’s favorite. The only one of the brood with any sense.”

“I’d argue that Vee’s the favorite.”

“She’s making him the next leader; she can’t love him that much.” The clack the backs of their gauntlet’s together and leave the armory. The mining base has only Aucht’s soldiers and the Mandalorians. Lestére’s forces, and Galaar Cerar, are preparing on his capital ship with the  _ jetii _ zealots. Part of Aquila misses the cold disdain of Xalonie’s soldiers, if only because it’s so familiar. They might not get along personally, but her men are top notch.

Malish waylays them in the corridor, pulling them off to the side. He clearly hasn’t looked in a mirror because he still has the eyebrows Aquila drew on his face with felt-pen while he slept. The right is smeared and smears more when he rubs the ridge. “Aquila.”

She signals for her twin to stay and then squeezes Malish’s shoulder. “Yeah?”

“I know you know the plan, just let me talk. I’m staying here, in the base, to provide mental protection since Father is… Anyway, I can’t be there. It’s for the best. I’m useless in a physical fight. I don’t even know any combat sorcery outside of Force Lightning, but-”

“I’ll keep an eye on her. And Aaron. I can’t promise they won’t immediately fuck off to go do Sith things after, but they’ll be fine.”

“Thank you.” Malish stands on his tiptoes and presses their foreheads together. “She means so much to me.”

“I know. And I’ll make sure someone sends you a holo if I have to throw her across the battlefield.” She kisses him, smears his left eyebrow and rejoins Aran. “What?”

“Nothing!”

“You’re making a face.”

“A little. I guess I expected him to ask you to stay safe.”

Aquila snorts. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m  _ mando’ad. _ ”

“I know, but he’s not.”

“No, but he loves me. That’s enough. And if it wasn’t, he trusts me to take care of myself. He would dishonor either of us by telling me to be careful. I’m always careful. And good thing. If I wasn’t-”

“Are you gonna brag about the headcrab again? Because If you’re just going to retell that story-”

“It’s funny!”

“-then I’m gonna call Vee. Cakara brought something up in training I wanted to clarify.”

Aquila crosses her arms over her chest and pouts. She shoves her face in her brother’s to be sure he can see her pouting and then pouts more, lips sticking out comically.

“You can tell everyone when we’re in the launch ship.”

\---

The screech of her fingers scratching the sides of her helmet can’t even begin to overpower the screaming in Aquila’s skull. At some point, she’d fallen to her knees. She can Sense the fight going on around, but only in fits and spurts. Liquid leaks from her eyes and while it must be tears, her mind refuses to accept anything other than blood. After clawing her helmet off, she digs her fingers into the shaved sides of her scalp.

Staccato claps break through the screams. Force compulsion jerks her face up by the chin until she’s looking up at Darth Rencarn. He walks down the stairs with a courtier’s grace, holding his robes like they’re a priceless gown. “How kind of you to come, Lord Sa’alle. I knew Sailens was a mere pretender.”

With each breath ripping out chunks of her lungs, Aquila aims her palm at the first altar with a Sa’alle girl, with her cousin, on it. The marks on her face burn as she pulls on the blood curses. It’s like swallowing hot tar to manipulate the ancient bindings. Blood vessels burst in her eyes, but finally she disowns her cousin. Her body collapses to the altar, Rencarn’s own spells weakened by the removal of the Sa’alle curses.

But the screaming doesn’t stop. There are three more Sa’alle girls twisted up in purple vines of power. Aquila clutches her skull again and leans forward until her elbows are holding her up. Force washes over her and her arms give out. She rolls to her side and presses her hand over her hidden lightsaber, feeling the pulse from Malish’s crystal resonate with the power blanketing her. Eyes closed for a moment in the sudden silence of her mind, she tries to send a thank you back through the Force.

Then her Dad exerts himself.

The dim haze of Rencarn’s great hall disappears in a blink. One by one, the bodies fall onto their altars with sickening cracks. Aquila feels three members of the Family wink out and opens her gummy eyes. Fox stands at the foot of the stairs in full armor, but his presence is so strong in the Force that his face is clearly visible. His chin is raised and he looks at Rencarn with an even expression.

“If it isn’t little Faximil come out to play.” Rencarn laughs. “I didn’t need the others. That’s the only one that matters.”

Shana Ultin, one of the Jedi zealots, dashes forward and hold a hand in front of Dad. “Sith, watch what you do. Vonar-”

Dad snaps his fingers and the miralukan’s body flies through the air and crashes into her companion. Both of them speak their incantation and twist their arms through the motions, but their technique fizzles out before it can truly form. Mist curls against the floor, now ice-cold, as all of the ambient Force in the hall rushes into Dad. “You hurt my child.”

The words tear into Rencarn like saber strikes - only without the cauterization as blood drips from his cheek and left arm. Wild around the eyes, Rencarn raises both arms and purple-black tendrils of power shoot out of the bodies on the altars and wrap around him like armor. “You killed these innocent chil-” His voice fails.

“They were already dead to your machinations,” Dad says as Rencarn touches his face and throat, jaw working, but no words coming out.

The shadows behind Rencarn solidify, first just two yellow eyes over his shoulder, but then Aucht’s full form holding a black-bladed dagger to the Sith’s throat. “And your fate was sealed the moment you thought to hurt my daughter.” He stabs the cursed metal through the bottom of his jaw. “Now suffer for eternity in your worst nightmare.”

Despite the wound, when his body falls to the floor, it retains a pulse of life and his Force doesn’t dissipate.

Aucht sheaths his dagger and his body contorts, shifting down to its normal size. Eyes glowing like candles, he looks around the hall for his daughter. “Cassandra?”

“My name,” she bites out, “is Sailens.” The mottled discoloration is already fading from her skin. Aaron stands with her arm over her shoulders and his lightsaber held up in defense.

“Foolish child.” He sweeps his arms out and illusions cover the grotesque remains of Rencarn’s sacrifices. The Force corruption in his eyes dims. “At least speak to your brother before you leave.”

And it’s over. Dad helps Aquila off the floor and carries her helmet with one arm. “You alright, kit?”

“I’m so tired, Dad.”

“Let’s get you back to your  _ riduur _ so you can recharge.”

She leans all of her weight on him and nods.


	11. The Sky

The Force crystals on the ceiling glow in time with the beating of of their hearts. Aquila sleeps with her knees curled up to her chest so she can tuck her head under Malish’s chin and still stick her cold toes in the crook of his knees. Not that he minds, curled around as he is, savoring the feeling of protecting her. The Rencarn operation had been his first opportunity to return the favor after her job. He doesn’t sleep so much as meditate and hold her in the warm cocoon of his Force.

She stirs and pulls the blanket tighter to her chin. “It’s not tomorrow, yet. Sleep more.”

“I am sleeping.”

“You’re good with the Force. But not that good.” She tilts her head back and nuzzles him. “I’m fine. Don’t exhaust yourself on my account.”

“You need it more than I do. Sai is going to be breaking down the door any minute.” He kisses between her eyebrows and hums.

“I don’t know why she wants to be head of the kriffing Family. She saw how terrible it was. Listened to their screams for years.” The crystals above them flare and Aquila takes hold of his arm. She yawns and pulls it around her waist. “Dad was right, though. They were just remnants. Ghosts trapped in the blood curses.”

“That’s why my work is so important. I’ll free both of you from those chains.”

“ _ Through Victory my chains are broken, _ ” she recites in Sith.

“Fair. Bad choice of words, but you know what I mean. You and Sai shouldn’t have to deal with this. No one should.”

“Dad still misses Sybil. Linora, too. He knows that they made choices, picked the Dark Side, but he’s convinced they could have turned out better if they’d been free.” She picks at his pajama shirt. “He’s never said a word about his parents. Just  _ gar taldin ni jaonyc; gar sa buir, ori'wadaas'la. _ It doesn’t  matter who your parents were. Only the parent you’ll be.”

In the dim light, Malish pulls away to look into her eyes. “I wouldn’t be anything without my parents. Mother’s refinement. Father’s… Everything.”

“Not his dramatics, thankfully.”

A laugh. “Thankfully. And everyone says you’re just like your dad, but for Sai… Sybil didn’t name her. Didn’t even hold her. Just put her in a cage.”

“Galaar was tossed aside like so much refuse and then Aaron was molded into that.”

He tucks his face behind her ear. “I won’t tell Sai you said that.”

“I’ve said it to her face. He’s a mess. She’s every good thing about him and she’s not overburdened with redeeming qualities herself.”

“Now you’re just being petty.” He brushes the side of her face and around behind her ear. “I’m glad you never had to face the horrors of Korriban. Without your parents you could have grown to make the Emperor tremble. I got all of the Intuition Father and Sai didn’t. I felt it when we met. The raw, unbridled power in you. I thought- It was stupid, but I thought it was ‘if you had been Sensitive,’ not ‘if you’d been made a Sith.’”

“I have the talent for Sorcery. I’m not locked in to one or the other like Sai and Vee. When I was younger, I felt it, too. Wanted it. Why settle for physical enhancement when I could tear down the sky and be the strongest warrior the clans had ever seen? I can feel it again, now that I have the mantle. It whispers to me. Offers the power and the knowledge. How can Sai resist? I know her hands aren’t clean, but…”

“It’s because she knows it’s not the full power of the Sa’alles. She wants the real holocron. The one from before the split with Hyal. When we were younger, she’d dream about it so fiercely that I was pulled into them.”

Aquila traces the dark circle under his eye. “Did she pull you in or did you try to help big sister?”

“Father said both,” he admits. “She was never interested in studying Dreamwalking. He had to lean on her just to get her to control it. And before you start pointing fingers at me, I’m adequate at it. It’s just that my time is better spent researching the blood curses.”

“Because it’s what you’re passionate about.”

“Who knows what I’ll do next? Maybe study how to reverse Sith Corruption.”

She presses their foreheads together. “You really worry about her.”

“She won’t let Father or Mother in. She’s trying to live alone. Aaron loves her, but he’s not enough.”

“You’re pretty isolated, yourself. Holed up here with your mask. Even Dad had all of his soldiers.”

“I can’t be anymore. I have you and your gaggle of siblings,” Aquila laughs at his word choice, “and there’s no chance they’ll just let me hide away with you, even if you would have.”

“Not a chance.”

“I know.” He rubs their noses together. “I was interrogated four times before the Rencarn op. And I’m pretty sure one of them wasn’t even an official sibling.”

“We’re  _ mando’ade; _ everyone’s a sibling.”

“So I can- Oh!” Malish sits up and shakes himself like a cat that’s just woken up. “It’s still hard to reconcile that you’re ‘Fox’s daughter’ that’s been just barely out of my life for so long.”

Aquila props herself up on her elbows. “What is it?”

“Vee’s blood brother! Father thinks he’s put his mind back together. Now it’s just waking him up.”

Their breathing is loud as that sinks in to her mind. “He’s- he’s alive? Really?”

“Probably. Only probably, but it’s Father. He may not have Intuition, but he’s never wrong when he says he can do something. I tried to help, but there’s something about me his mind doesn’t like. I have to hold up four levels of illusions on top of working the techniques. Makes it too risky.”

All of the air leaves her lungs at once. “Still. Vee’s going to- I don’t even know. How do you react to that?”

“Here’s hoping we find out. And soon.”

“Mmhmm.” Aquila kisses him and then pulls him back down onto the bed. “But we can worry about that later. Let’s sleep some more.”

“Or not sleep.”

“Or that.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! This was a lot of fun! There's going to be a bit of a break before the next story. :)


End file.
